The room was dark, and a solitary lamp swayed. The shadow of a hunched figure stole along the wall.
DON was handcuffed to a chair, all four of his limbs were bound tightly by the strong steel bracelets. He was frightened by the dreary atmosphere that reeked of blood and the destruction of souls. Looking around, Don saw the shadow reappear, and from it, a man emerged.
"Jackson," DON said the word with disgust, but the fear in his voice was evident.
"I have waited so long for this day," Jackson imitated the the assassins voice as he lashed out and struck DON in the cheek.
The assassin yelled as he felt the blood trickle down his neck. He spat at the detective, missing by only inches.
Jackson and Don went back and forth, hurtling insults until Jackson couldn't take it any longer. "This is enough," he roared. "Who do you work for, and were are the head quarters of the Marathoners?"
"I work for a man named Arnold Reagan, he is the leader of the Marathoners. They are centered in, what looks like a small, moldy shed in an ally. The shed contains a slide-like tube, leading to a whole under ground complex. Reagan is stationed in the center of the place, the 'company,' if you want to call if that, exports 30 tons of cokane every day to countries around the globe."
"Where is this shed?" Jackson asked.
"It is in the ally in between the..." DON stopped. "Don't do it, you can't, I want to live," he suddenly yelled.
Jackson hit the floor as a large explosion filled the air. The wall of the chamber exploded and a small figur emerged from the dust. Lifting the barrel of a 9 mm pistol he laughed and shot DON in the chest.
The bullet tore through the tissue surrounding DONs heart, and ensured a quick and painless death...
Then the assasin ran.
The only trace of the man, the only clue; was a smear of blue gunk, which had splattered on DON as the wall blew open.
